By human rights, do you mean that includes bleached blonds, too?
By Pete McMartin, Vancouver Sun September 23, 2010
For the benefit of my female readers -- and I write this as if you didn't already know -- here is the truth about men:
Men are swine.
This fact has survived the feminist revolution, which men applaud, by the way, because now their wives and partners can go out and get jobs and work themselves into an early grave just as men have traditionally done, plus there is the added bonus of a second income that now allows men to go out and buy that motorcycle they always promised themselves when they turned 40. Feminism? It's all good.
Here is another truth about men: Men are liars.
Let me narrow that down. Men are liars when it comes to women. If a man tells a woman he is with that he does not look at other women, or does not think about other women, or does not lust after other women, or, laughably, does not "objectify" other women -- ah, the feminist vocabulary, so quaint! -- he is one of three things. He is either (a) medicated, or (b) gay, but mostly he is (c) a liar. Take it from me. I'm a man. I wouldn't lie to you.
Which is to say, men, under the guise of being enlightened and "sensitive," have had to readjust their behaviour so as to thrive under the rules of feminism. There are pragmatic reasons for this. Women, after all, make up the majority of the workforce these days, and one must get along with one's colleagues if one is to prosper at work. Also, losing one's job for sexual harassment can be a drag.
Men have adapted to this by watching what they say and how they act at work, or, if they're at a party, acting like they are really listening to what the woman they just met has to say, despite the fact that, mostly, they're wondering what she looks like without her clothes on.
So, to recap. Men: swine and liars. Let's move on.
A few years ago, I attended a memorial service for a colleague on the North Shore. I attended the memorial service with two male friends, both of whom had worked with the deceased. We drove over to the North Shore together from Vancouver.
On the way home, we got stuck in a traffic jam on Marine Drive and, famished, we turned into one of those big chain restaurants that serve middling food from theme menus. Full of families. Nothing faintly lascivious about the place. But upon entering, we were immediately struck by the servers, all of whom were young, attractive and female. We were so struck by this that after being struck by this for a half-hour, I thought there may be a column in it. So I asked to speak to the manager, and an assistant manager came out, and she was young and attractive, and I asked her if it was just a coincidence that all the servers were young, attractive and female. And she asked, what do you mean by that? And I said, wasn't it a form of discrimination that all the servers were young, attractive and female? And mustering up her best corporate straight face, she said, oh, no, we choose our servers on the basis of their personalities. Whereupon I rolled my eyes and laughed.
Fast forward to last week.
A young, attractive woman by the name of Karolina Bil launched a complaint with the B.C. Human Rights Tribunal against the Shark Club in Richmond, her former, and short-tenured, place of work. Bil quit days after being hired as a bartender because, she claimed, she was discriminated against for being instructed to wear mini-skirts, high heels and tops that revealed cleavage. She said she was also exposed to sexist remarks from customers.
The reason for these instructions and comments? Please see above under "Men: swine and liars."
Now, the first clue for Bil that the Shark Club may not have been the right fit for her employment-wise, if she was dress-code sensitive, would be the fact that it was named the "Shark Club" and not "Mom's Family Diner." It would be for that very same reason you do not find many professors of feminist studies working at Hooters, unless they are on sabbatical.
The second clue that might have told her that the Shark Club would not be a good fit for someone sensitive to discrimination was the appearance of the other servers at the Shark Club, all of whom were young, attractive females and who Bill, a blond, described as all having bleached blond hair. (Meeo wwww!)
Now, many women looking for work would take one look inside the door of the Shark Club and think "Not my kind of joint," and walk the other way. Even many male customers would do the same, men who, believe it or not, prefer to have a meal without a heavy helping of breast on the side. (I said all men are swine. I did not say we're not all drooling yahoos. There's a difference.)
Yet Bill did not do so. Even more oddly, she did not take issue with the fact that she was hired in the first place precisely because she was young, attractive and female. That is, once she was in the door, she took issue with one kind of discrimination, as she saw it, but had no problem with taking advantage of or was blind to another, and to me worse, kind of discrimination in the service industry that got her in the door in the first place -- the kind that discriminates in favour of beauty.
Sometimes, the real issue, and the greater injustice, is as plain as the look on your face.
Bill should look in the mirror.
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